


Want and need

by Escritora2Aliasfox



Series: The internet is for porn porn porn [2]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-27 11:35:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10018667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Escritora2Aliasfox/pseuds/Escritora2Aliasfox
Summary: Everyone likes this teacher. He is a likeable bastard. But no one likes him more than you.





	

**Author's Note:**

> It could be interpreted as underage sex... but is not explicit. so i leave it to your choice.  
> Also, the reader is sexless. That part you add it.

Proffesor Crowley walks into class like it was a disco.  
He wears a wide toothy smile and a cocky walk, and he knows all the catchphrases.   
He knows hystory tlike he had been there, and he tells you with all the cool, curious and funny details. 

Books are there to learn. But to digg around, to search the juicy details, the little dirty secrets, to chit chat and spread the rumors, that, is for curiosity, for pleasure. For nature.

“the medieva era goes from the v century to xv… and boy there’s space for plenty. Did you know, it was actualy in the early period of the medieval era… where the phrase ‘shuck my ass’ oryginates?” the class snickers “yes, that, and all of it variants, all the ‘kis my ass’ or my dick and my personal favourite, ‘get your tounge out’a my ass’”

His expresion turns knowing and funny, and he looks around the class, and stops at the first line a bit too long. The snicker rises. 

All the studients like him. he is a likable bastard. Beeing easily teased, you could live without some of his jokes, but you also can not stay angry at him. he is a likeable bastard.

He keeps going throu the lesson, pointing out important dates and names throu the medieval ages and its diferent phases, ‘till he asks you.  
And you don’t know.  
Ooh shit.  
See, when you don’t know something in his class it is fun, seen from the outside, but being you, well. Wether to think of the solution you already think of the teasing.   
“come on. Try. Its easy, what period was she from?”  
“I know it’s easy, I’m sorry I’m stupid. I still don’t fucking know”  
And the wishpering extends around you like spilled watter. He holds your eyes. The ckocky smirk still on. Your classmates wonder if he will take it as an offense and how’ll he react, and you just wait patiently, no matter what. He can’t keep waiting forever. He’ll have to ask someone else soon.  
“and her king? What was his name?” You close your eyes and breath deeply. You speak firmly, but still a tyny wincy bit of anger in it. “I have no idea” just with that, the most popular girls on the back of the class chatter around smirking like a band of parrots. It is so obvious. Why does he keep asking you instead of shushing them?

Crowley prolongs this moment so long one of the proudest and most annoying girl in the back can’t help it. She reads the answer from the book on her lap and interrupts the duel of poisonus-suffering/comical-daring stares.  
“she never married! Please.” Crowley made one of his charismatic, unreadable face rolls and remarks “…and I’m sure you can make a million theories why” the stupid girl thinks that’s a good signal and adds “maybe she couldn’t someone to look at her” “so sad!”

And the wishpers go further. Even when the break comes, and they all run out, the sound of chatting is so loud. You pretend to take your things slowly, just to make your way out a little bit more in peace.  
The professor paces up to his desk and sits, one foot holding him on the floor.  
“not a great day in your History, uh?” you cant help answer, suddenly picking your things faster. “it wouldn’t be so bad if you didn’t take it on me”  
“what do you mean?” You turn around fast. Holding your things tightly. Your stance is firm, making you look older than you are. You are obviously not in the mood for humor.  
“the fact that I am bad at your material doesn’t give you the right to humiliate me”  
He suddenly looks more serious, but still a bit casual. “do not blame me if you can’t defend yourself. No one would pick on you if you weren’t an easy target”

There. There was a beat. You didn’t expect such answer. When you mention your problems to a grown up they usually feel pity and, maybe, give you stupid solutions.

“…still. You are a teacher. A part of your job is to help me. Not make it harder”  
You are turning around when he uses a very sudden tone to call your attention before you go.  
“i’m helping! You still gotta do it yourself” You just pretend you didn’t hear. It was obious you did: it was only the two of you there. But his point made no sense, so your point still stands.  
…

From then on, it is very clear you don’t find his jokes funny. This doesn’t ease the joking around. There is plain tension whenever he speaks to you in class, everyone eager to see how the conversation will develop, like it was a match: cat versus cornered rat, or so.   
And what bothers you the most is that he keeps all the way throu that cat-who-got-the-cream-stance. Smirk and all.  
He takes the chance to speak to you one day with the excuse that you failed all the excercises that day. You fidget with your hands.

“you know I have nothing personal aginst you, do you?” “yeah. You are the same prick with everyone. Its just hard for me because I’m weak” “no you are not. You are perfectly capable to help yourself, you you are stubbornly deeping yourshelf in shit” you look up at him.  
“you know, it would be so much easier, if you just fllowed the flow”  
“I don’t want to! They all in this room are superficial and cruel and stupid!” “its not so difficult is it? You just laught at the jokes, a little bit, even if thei’r not funny, and think a couple of simple come backs. You are smart enough for that!”  
“So is it what you did? You where the clown of the class and you imitated the ones you didn’t even like to be another clown and not the victim? ”

And there’s another beat. Seems like there’s one in each of your arguments. This time you see a very big, rusty wheel turn behing him, skrilling in his head just a tiny bit.

“Pride Will Only Take You So Far” he speaks so low, that one time. Nearly throu teeth.  
…

Oh no. not this.   
They allways picked on you. It got worst but you don’t care anymore because you just ignore them. But seems like sometimes, they wont be satisfied with being ignored and calling from the distance.  
A guy snatches a book from your hands. You turn around. It is a natural thing to do, but the stupid kid next to him thinks its funny.  
“I’m talking to you! What ‘d you got?” “give it back” “yeah, just one second”  
You got that book on the library. You need to give it back. Fisicly. This is not something you can ignore. “give it back, Please” you make your voice sound serious. But no one takes you seriour. It is the world upside down here: in orther to be respected, you have to be a clown.

The boy who got your book (from the library) pretends a calm, casual face. Is one of those creepy things they do when teasing. He is very interested in your interest for the book. So he pretends he checks the contents of the pages.  
“this is boring” he rips the page out “and this…” he rips ir too “and… tks boring as fuck”   
This one, he crumbles in his hand slowly, and watches your face as it falls.  
He wants to see yout reaction.  
His friends laugh and coment. It takes a few seconds, but you react.

You Need that book. And you can still fix it if you…  
You try to take it from his hands. If you got him surprised, maybe you could’ve snatched it, but you don’t: he holds it tight. And he is taller, and of wide buildt. He smirks happily while you struggle, and manages to throu you to the floor.  
Some laught, some hould in shock and joy. This is exciting!  
You just don’t stay on the floor and get up, back for the book. This time he pushes you. You struggle to get back up, you of his friends gets to you. He holds you down from the bag.  
“wahh! Why don’t you just stay down?!” and he opens, and snatches one of your notebooks and kicks it in the floor.  
You just have to stay down on the floor while a couple of the boys kicks around your notebook.

“what are you gonna do now?” asks the big guy with the book.  
You let a beat go “are you happy now?” he makes sure to rip out as many pages as he can with one hand, crumble them, and turns around to throw them down the stairs…  
And Crowley stares back, from a bit lower in the stairs. Serious.  
“oh shit” some kids (the girl included) run away. The big guy stays still as he, slowly, walks up to his level. They are nearly the same height.  
“you mister. Pick up every piece of the paper. And straigten them. Now” “teacher, i…”  
“do I sound like joking?” truth is, this calm tone he was using, was nearly alien to any of his studients “pick them up” “but teacher…” “do it. Or else.”  
The bully didn’t want to find out what ‘else’ could be, he still thoug he could get away with less punishment possible. He picked up the papers.  
“all of them. If one’s missin, you’ll pay the whole thing.” …”straighten them up. Nice and easy. Don’t mess them. Make a good pile…” … “and now, apologice” “but…!” “THE VERY LEAST THING YOU CAN DO RIGHT NOW IS SAY SORRY”

He turns to you and gives you an empty “sorry” “fuck you” is your response.  
“Name. Easy, please. I know, but let me handle it.”  
“ain’t you gonna…!” “YOU wait for me down stairs. NO complaints. I will go there later and handle your case. If you are not there when I get there then I will make sure I make of it much more than it already is” He spoke like a general. No one in the school had seen him like that before. The kid takes a while and nearly complains, but he ends up walking down stairs like a scaredy dog.

Crowley tries to help you up. You make sure to get up on your own. You wonder if you can keep the pieces of your pride, but Crowley puts a hand in your back, like he is gonna hug you.

Shit you actually want a hug now. But your pride is sill shattered, and it prinks and stinks, and you step away. Crowley breathes deeply and takes you gently.  
“come. Come on. Come with me” He takes you out of the school, and onto the street and walks for five minutes with you. He soon notices you are not wearing a coat and puts his jacket over your shoulders. The gesture is a fucking cliché, but it feels warm and safe.  
You guys arrive to a café, and he sits with you. He orders water for you, and a beer for himself. He barely touches it. You just talk.  
“whenever anyone bothers you, you have to complain. Then next time they bother you, you complain again. And from then on, you defend yourself. And if they lay one finger on you, or there is a fight, you can blame the entire school and the system, and denunce the little bastard if you want. You will be the winner. No matter what they did” You nod “so I have to be the victim. Several times. Plus, the crybaby, in order for something to be made”

Crowley Shifts.

“You have another option: you can be smart, and think before you speak, and act behind the curtine. You are smart enough for that. No need to get fisical. It is actually fun”  
“so my option is to change and join them. And be as low as them. That or be the…”  
“no! you don’t have to change! You are perfect, and gorgeous. And smart. They see it as odd. It calls their attention. They think you are weak. But you are not. You can be strong in the better way. Look, you don’t have to change. You just gotta be… flexible”  
“… what about the other kid?” “oh, he better wait. After what he did, I have an excuse to make him wait and still complain if he leaves”  
…  
Crowley gives you his phone. “just in case” and it is like having an infiltrated bodyguard. Or a secret friend from other dimension. He texts you ironic stuff from time to time. You text him funny things you encounter.  
Sometimes, he drives you home, or to another café. Not so nearby, just in case, so no one makes a fuss.   
You do feel safe with him. And happy. He helps, in many little ways. And he is quite young, for a teacher, and you are quite mature, and he is…  
You kiss in the car, one day. In front of the café. You where making casual talk mixed with confortable and long silences, and it just came. Like a silvester plant growing where it is not supposed to be, but, well, what to expect? There was earth, and water, and sun…

He closes his eyes, and breathes deeply throu his nose. He doesn’t interrupt the kiss. It goes on slow and nice, preasure and a bit of movement included. He actually moves to carass your hair, but he doesn’t get there. He gently pushes you away.  
“you should think of that” “what?” “you know. Are you sure of that?” “you think I don’t know?” “uh… no. you are young, and you’ve been throu a lot, and I was there…”  
“that is why I love you!” “do you? Do you really? Or this is just a whimp? ‘cause it is risky…”  
“I can’t believe it. Maybe you are the one confused. I suppose you Think, before you call me again” And then you are out of the car, and walking home alone from your café.  
Well, you know, the café you called yours.

…

“I just… you know I’ve been everywhere, and with everyone, but… ah, its.. its diferent, you know? i…even the little flaws I could find, I find them more like an experience…”  
Crowley kept on rambling. Next to him, Aziraphale had run out of shocked words and possible complains, and was just swirling one of the many cups of wine with a sad and ausent expresion. His first and most obious points against had been easily and quicly rebated. 

“yeah she’s very young, but she is very mature for her age, and bedsides….”  
(here followed a long list of known characters in history, who had engaged/given birdth or ruled or acomplished rather successfully…) “and don’t tell me abouth morals…” (and here came an even longer list of the not so secret scandals in similar or worst cases, many of wich ended more or less happily…)

“and bedsides its not like Romeo and Juliet… and even them had a great story to tell afterwards… I mean…” “they couldn’t tell it. They died” “I don’t mean that i…ah… what was I telling?” “I just hope you don’t hurt the poor thing” “nonono that was never my intention. Its actually the oposite… oh! Yes! I know what I was gonna say! You see, even if it ends bad, as bad as it could go… well, it would be an experience… and it can not possibly be as bad as those too. Right?”  
…  
You walk out of school, as usual, without hurry. You are just thinking, and thinking… where you stupid for liking him? Would you need a psycologist? But, didn’t he kiss back…?  
“Last. Name” You look up. Its him. “I happen get out now. I can drive you close”  
And you think about it. When he does this, is usually an excuse to pass by your place. You don’t want to have this conversation. You don’t want to hear him speak of how young you are, and that you are confused, you need someone your age, maybe to speak with a profesional…

But it is Friday. And you got no plans. And may as well finish this properly before the weekend starts. You sigh, and follow him into his spectacular car (wich he watches very carefully. One day one kid painted it with red gloss. It was scary)  
You think you are gonna miss this car asyou get in. Then, in time, you realize you are not going in the direction of your house, nor the café.

Crowley speaks while he drives. “you can tell me you thoug better, and I can let you home, and not speak of this again. Or you can tell your mom you are habing dinner out with a friend...nd we can talk over dinner”  
You think of it. As you pick up the phone, Crowley drives to the next city, and stops in the carpark of a building. Once he has parked, he gets out fast and helps you out of the car.  
Fuck. It’s the Ritz. The fucking goddamnit Ritz.   
“I am not dress for the occasion” “you are perfect. Can not dress worst that the angel and they know us here” “no way!”

You get in, and you feel numb. You are given a table (don’t people usually make a… oh well) You sit and you order. You have no idea what to take, but Crowley knows the plates, for him, and for someone with a sweet tooth, so you choose.  
You talk abouth everything and nothing.

You ask how can they aford this. Crowley tells you of the book shop, and plants, and his contacts… and he barely mentiones his family. You also speak of you two, and it is odd, but at the same time natural. You both doubth you should do it, but you guys do want it, and it could work so…

After a magical night of glares and smiles and nice chat… you don’t go back to the car. You go to the hotel.  
And one second you guys are nervious, and pretending nothing happens, the next you kiss.  
You kiss heatedly. He cup you head In his hands, carasing your hair, and you grab his suit and pull.  
You stammer and nearly hit the wall too hard. You guys laught and keep kissing in a messy game of tag. You chase each other undressing button by buton, playing…  
You end up in bed, nude, side by side.  
He is older, and more expirienced, and to you he is way better looking. So you are a bit crouched.   
“don’t” he says, and he extends a hand towards you. Gently, very carefull, he carasses your face. “if you are unconfortable, with anything. Just please, say” you nod, and his hand goes to your shoulder. He gides youcloser, and he kisses your forehead.  
He smiles. You laught, and you come closer, ‘till you are huging. It feels good, to be held, and warm.

He keps kissing you, and carassing your back and shoulder and you hair. Then, he carasses all the way down the curve of you side, to you rear, and back up, slow, deep, enyoing the feeling, like it was not something sexual at all, as casual as carasing your hair, and man, you like it, and you secretly wish he did it again, and again and again and in turn you carass every little corner from his chest, up the collarbone, his jaw, his cheekbone, to his shoulder, and back.

And so, you lay on your sides, carasing and kissing, and that calms you down and makes you eager for more. But there is no rush. There is time. Crowley makes sure you want it badly and then he turns away one moment to grab and put on a condom. You giggle a bit. You had totally forgot. “no joke” he says “a friend of mine, see, he is such an angel, and the idiot forgot the very first time with his brad new lover. It was allright, but he still feels idiot…” You laught and kiss him deep just to shut him up. Not the moment for history class.  
He carasses your thigt and guides it over his hip, and touches you there.

You ghasp. He shushes you, and if you are gonna say something he kisses you. It is time to just feel. And you feel his fingers going up and down, and slowly in, insistent, invading, deeper…  
You moan, he hushes you again, and he shucks your neck. His other hand holds you close while carasing your neck and back, so he touches you with his mouth.  
And it feels so good, so warm, his mouth slick up and down biting your neck and breast and colarbone, while his fingers abuse you entrance. When your breath hurries and you can feel your body attempting a rithm, moving against him, you beg for it.

“please… already… I want it… please…” He says nothing, but he moves. He holds you from the hips, and where his fingers worked you open now is his dick.  
“oh yes” “shss… easy” “no please don’t go easier on me or I swer I chain and rape you”  
Crowley laughts, openly, and then moves. With each wave of his hips he is a bit tighter against you, and then a bit deeper inside you. For a moment (a few moments actually) you wish you where using another pose, but this feels good. It is like an eternal embrace. He holds you and you hold him. And the carasses, and the kisses and the going back and forth of his into you…

Oh god… “shsss” ups, you said that out loud.

Then the rithm fastentes, and his trusts are faster, and rougher. He hits you right There every time, and every time you can’t help but to moan. Oh lord its so good.

It becomes more agresive, and hurried, and messy. The pose you are in, on your side, baries a little as he needs to burry himself deeper, harder, into you, and you heep moaning.  
“Crowley..Crowley! ah! Aaah Crowley” “m’ namess Anthony…” “aaaah hnn Antho…nnn ah!”  
He holds your hip hard enough to bruise and heeps trusting harder into you, and you hear him breathing harsh against you, incoerent words in his breath, that is, until he goes very harsh, and suddenly very still.

He bites you. It’s a mamal instinct. It nearly feels like holding you still, when he empties himself in you. It feels great. After that eternal second, he relaxes, and goes limp around you.

You haven’t reach your orgasm but you don’t give a damn. It was amazing! And he keeps kissing you now, sloppy and happily and each time lower… oh, wait.  
… oh. Oh my. Yes, he is going THERE.  
“no, there’s no need..” “if you don’t want, I won’t do it” “ah… is not that I don’t want” “then you’ll love it” and he lowers his head…and there’s his toung. All along you and stopping there. Oh, shit. His tounge abuses the most sensitive part of your sex and then his entire mouth… oh!  
When you think this can not be better (you are trying oral sex for first time from the lips of an expert) then, he fingers you.  
You can’t help rocking back and fort. And he goes with the mothion. Oh fuck. You ride his face and then you feel it… its coming…  
And you cry when you come full on his mouth. And while you are catching your breath he still gives you a couple deep kisses down there.

Is only then when he climbs back onto the bed, wiping his chin a bit. He is not sure how you feel abouth horal sex-post kisses, so he is very gentle when kissing your temple, and you sleep spooning.

In the morning, you will do it in the couch. Doggy style. Yep. You are willing to have him in from behind while biting your shoulders… this is gonna be great.

**Author's Note:**

> like with the other. I wanted the reader to be sexless so anyone could jump in. This made the sex scene dificult, but i hope still enjoyable.  
> Also, i coulnd't help it: i was going throu stuff and i throuwed in a bit of philosofy of bullying.  
> So, this work came out like a bit of a bartad hybrid between a good writer and an inapropiate porn theme.  
> enjoy.


End file.
